Solitude Is Sweet
by Banisters
Summary: Jackal doesn't like Boots. Boots doesn't like Jackal. And yet they find themselves becoming best friends with every new risk they encounter.
1. Ready, Aim, Fire

_When routines become repetitive _

_And it's hard to survive_

_We just need someone competitive_

_To finally arrive_

I hate mornings.

I hate the way the sun shines through my eyelids and burns a red glow into my eyes. I hate the way Kloppman stomps upstairs and wakes me up first, shouting my name and tapping the side of my bed. I hate the way the other boys become excited at the opportunity of a new day. Hate it. I don't see what's so thrilling about selling papers. How can they seriously have fun trudging through New York and shouting until their voices become hoarse? But, then again, they have it easier than I do. People don't swat them away or swear at them.

I guess I shouldn't be ashamed of what I am…My mother always said to keep my head high and slough off the insults. And I do, condoning the comments of the public is fine for me. But when things get physical, I can't just ignore it. I can't just ignore the pain of broken ribs, bloody wounds, and black eyes. I don't even try to fight back anymore. The more resilience and resistance I show, the more punches I get. I'm like a target, and someone is always just around the corner with a bow and arrows in their hands. Yeah, there's always some being patient to get a bulls-eye. Ready, aim, fire.

So, as you can guess, I wasn't eager to wake up this morning. But somehow, there was a difference. I mean, I couldn't see it, but I could feel it. I didn't mention it to anyone, especially not Jack. He knows the feeling too well, the feeling that something beautiful is bound to cross your path. I didn't feel like getting advice from him today. This feeling was something I needed to sort out on my own.

"'Mornin' Boots!" Snipeshooter said as I walked into the bathroom. He had another one of Race's cigars in his mouth and was chewing contently on the tip.

"Race'll kill ya for stealin' that, Snipe," I warned him.

"Aw, relax. It ain't like I'm smokin' it or nothin'"

"Yeah, but Race has a hangover. He ain't in the mood for that sorta thing."

The truth was, Racetrack was completely sober this morning. But I was getting kind of annoyed by Snipe's attitude. He carried his pride like a trophy, boasting about it to everyone in site. I know I was being spiteful, but I just wanted to see him timid for once.

"Oh…"

Snipeshooter tossed the cigar onto the counter of the sink while he brushed his teeth. I sighed. The feeling I'd possessed a few minutes ago seemed to have corroded. The daily routine would continue, and nothing good was going to happen.

"What's wrong?" Skittery asked as he came out of a bathroom stall.

"Huh? Oh, nothing…"

Unlike Skittery, I didn't broadcast my complaints to everyone around me. I have enough problems already; I don't need people thinking I'm a whining, selfish child. Skittery looked at me, his eyes searching my face for more signs of trouble.

"Ya sure? Ya seem kinda down."

"Nah, I'm fine. Just tired."

Skittery nodded empathically and walked over to Jack to strike up a conversation. I listened to them for a moment, but their chatter wasn't that interesting. I turned around, but Snipeshooter was gone. He was probably already downstairs by now. I grumbled and stumbled into a stall, crashing into Crutchy on my way over. He smiled and apologized, then continued on his way. Crutchy was a fascinating person, in my opinion. Even though he had a bad leg and could only hobble around, he never seemed sad. Maybe I could learn something from him sometime.

When I swung the door open, I tripped over someone on the floor.

"What the hell!" I swore as I hit the ground. I groaned and glanced at the body on the floor, expecting to see a drunken Kid Blink or Pie Eater covered in vomit. Instead, a girl was sprawled over the wooden floor. Who the hell was she?

"Hey…" I said, poking her shoulder. She was probably just some prostitute that Mush or Bumlets had brought home. Again.

"Uh…hi…" she answered, raising her head off the floor. Her brown hair was straggly and messy, like she'd just had some bad encounter with a bird or something. Her eyes were bright and jade colored, but had dark circles creeping up from under them. Her face had what appeared to be a smudge of dirt on it. I peered closer and realized it was bruise. She looked like a wreck.

"Did things get rough last night?" I asked her, chuckling at my own joke. She looked at me, her forehead wrinkling as her dark eyebrows teamed up with her eyes to form a furious glare. She sat up and brushed herself off, but didn't respond.

"Did one of the guys get kinda controlling? Did Mush decide to be dominant?" I said.

"Shut up."

"It's just a question."

"I don't get paid for getting' laid, jerk," she snapped.

"Free service?"

"No," she growled. She stood up and smoothed her skirt, then fixed her angry eyes on me again. She was taller than most girls, taller than me, actually. And young too. My age, maybe.

"Then what are ya doin' here?" This didn't make sense. She'd never been around the lodging house before, so she wasn't anyone's girlfriend or sister.

"I need a frickin' job."

"Go work in a factory. The pay here sucks. And we don't let girls stay here. It's a news_boys_ lodging house."

"Well, I'm changin' the rules. Ya got a problem with it?"

"Yeah, and so will everyone else."

"Too bad for them."

I scowled at her sour tone. I didn't like this girl. She wasn't polite or sweet, she was a bundle of cranky emotions that I didn't want to deal with. I stood up and sneered at her before I left. I didn't have time for this, or I'd be late for the 'glorious' selling of the World's newspapers. She followed me out of the stall and downstairs, occasionally stepping on my heels.

"Quit it!" I hissed as I staggered down the creaking steps. The girl purposely kicked the back of my knee and sent me flying down the stairs. I tumbled down and cracked my elbow on the handrail before I finally landed with a thud at the bottom. I heard to snicker as she ran down after me.

"Nice coordination ya got there," she said.

"You kicked me!"

"I know."

"Why?"

"Because I felt like it."

"Did anyone tell ya that it's not nice to hurt people?" I said as I pulled myself up. My elbow was throbbing and bleeding. Oh joy.

" 'Course. I just didn't listen." Her face seemed to light up when she said this. This was just wonderful. We didn't need another rebellious kid hanging around. Too bad she didn't show up during the strike, she would have been useful.

"I can see that."

"Good."

"Youse a mean girl, ya know that?"

"Yeah. That's why they call me Jackal."

"Like the dog?" I scoffed.

"And I suppose youse got a bettah name?"

"Boots."

"Like the shoe?"

I sighed. Jackal was bitter and sarcastic, exactly the opposite of the character I expected to show up and brighten my day.

"Yes, like the shoe…" I admitted. How could I let some _girl_ defeat me words? I wasn't going to take shit from her, even if she was a girl.

"It's cute." Jackal said.

"What?" I stuttered. Hadn't she just pushed me down the stairs and started throwing insults at me?

"Ya name, Boots. It's a cute name."

This was what I needed, for some dame to appear and confuse me.

"Can ya just leave me alone?"

"Oh…alright…"

Jackal seemed disappointed at my reply. Did she think I was really going to be kind to her after she just verbally and physically bashed me? She really _was _like a dog. They bite you and then lick the wound to make it better.

I hate dogs.


	2. Beware Of Dog

_Cruelty is nothing but a mask_

_Make up to hide fear_

_Sporting rage is a simple task_

_When fright is near _

When I finally got my papers, the other newsies had already gotten at least 15 sold. That meant that all the big headlines were already flowing through Manhattan; I wouldn't be able to exaggerate the news much further. Headlines are only so malleable. Jackal was walking in front of me, dodging groups of people and keeping a steady pace. I put no effort into keeping up with her, I had work to do. I skimmed through the paper and until I saw an article about an old woman being knocked over by a drunk. Perfect.

"Elderly woman brutally beaten outside of bakery! Savage brute on the loose!" I shouted, holding up a paper to attract customers. A wry grin spread across my face. Improving the truth was probably the most important lesson I had learned from the other newsies. A few people crowded around me and handed me coins while I distributed their papers. I looked around for a moment and noticed Jackal wasn't around. Phew.

"Liar!"

My attention was drawn back to my customers. A wealthy looking man was holding a crumbled newspaper in his hand.

"What's the problem, sir?"

"Give me my money back. You lied. There's no 'savage brute' on the loose!"

"Excuse me?" I said, faking puzzlement and taking a step back.

"Give me my money back, you nigger!"

I involuntarily made a fist and clenched my jaw. Not this again. I turned around and was on the verge of sprinting away when the guy grabbed my suspenders. I lifted my foot and kicked randomly, hoping to connect my heel with his crotch. No luck.

"I said, give me my money back!"

People walked past us, ignoring the scene playing out in front of them. New York society wasn't friendly, and when this happened to me most people didn't seem to care. I mean, yeah, sometimes a kind lady or good-hearted scholar would help me out. But today wasn't a lucky day for me. Terrific. I winced, preparing myself for a punch in the gut. Instead, I felt a struggle going on behind me. I took the opportunity and pulled away from the guy.

"Don't mess with him, freak!" Jackal shouted.

Oh-no. She was back.

"Don't touch me!"

"Ever heard of morals? Huh!"

I turned around just as Jackal threw a punch at the guy's face. It wasn't a hard blow or anything, but it was enough to make the man wobble backwards. Jackal lunged at the man and tackled him to the ground then spit in his face.

"Get off of me!" he repeated. He grabbed Jackal's wrist in an attempt to throw her off, but she leaned forward bit his hand. My jaw dropped. She just earned herself another reason to be called Jackal. Apparently the bite hurt more than the punch, and the man yelped in pain. He tried to yank his hand out of her mouth, but she kept her teeth clasped onto his knuckles. I stood there among a new crowd of passersby, watching as the guy's palm started to bleed. Enough was enough.

"Stop it!" I yelled as I grabbed Jackal off him. She tried to go back and keep fighting, but a group of people were in her way.

"Let go of me!" she growled at me.

I tugged her away and kept a strong grip on her hand was we jogged off. No one was following us, thankfully. A few minutes later, we ran into Jack.

"Whoa, Boots! What happened?" he questioned.

I bent down and panted, then nudged Jackal in the side. She looked content from the rush of adrenaline she received for attacking the man.

"And ya name is…?" Jack asked.

"Jackal."

"Jack Kell?" he said, confused. "Like me?"

"What? No. Jackal. Like the wild dog."

I caught my breath and stood up.

"Wild is right! Youse a vicious little monster!"

"Aw, be quiet," Jackal shushed.

"Can ya fill me in, Boots?" Jack said.

"She bit some guy back there!"

Jack raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

"He had it comin'" Jackal muttered.

"What'd he do?"

"He called Boots a nigger and was about to hurt 'em."

"I didn't need ya to help me," I interjected. "Ya didn't need to soak 'em."

"Wait wait wait. Ya bit this man?" Jack said, smiling in amusement.

"Yeah…" Jackal nodded proudly. She spit onto the street, looking happily at the man's blood in her saliva.

"Looks like ya have a guard dog, Boots," Jack chuckled. He spit into his hand and offered it to Jackal. "I'm Jack Kelly."

Jackal looked suspiciously at his hand and shook it, without spitting.

"I kinda just wasted my spit a second ago…" she mumbled.

"No problem."

Jackal blushed. How magnificent. She had been brainwashed by Jack's handsome face. Now she'd probably never talk to me again. Wait a minute. Was I _jealous_? I didn't like this girl, she was too crazy. Excellent, now I had to add envy to the list of things I needed to deal with.

"So uh…are ya two good friends or somethin'?" Jack asked me.

"No. We just met this morning. She was in our lodging house."

"Really? Ya plan on bein' a newsie?"

Jackal nodded shyly.

"How'd ya end up there, anyways?" I asked her.

"Oh. I uh…came last night."

"Well, obviously. But why were ya asleep in the bathroom stall?"

"Uh…"

Jack laughed.

"Well, I guess I'll see ya guys at lunch then, alright?" Jack said. "Work ain't over yet."

I waited until he walked away to face Jackal.

"Well?"

"What?"

"How did ya end up in the stall?"

"Oh…erm…I'll tell ya later, just remind me."

As soon as we walked into Tibby's for lunch, Jackal went from being fierce to friendly, like her big jackal callousness had transformed into the innocence of a young puppy. We sat down in a booth next to Mush, Les, and David.

"Hey…" Jackal greeted. She lifted her menu up to partially hide her face. For the little amount of time that I'd known her, I realized that she was extremely afraid of people. Of course, she wasn't frightened if she was enraged, but when she was around larger numbers of people she didn't act the same. She wasn't as open as she was when she first met me.

"Hi!" Les chirped.

Mush grinned at Jackal and David acknowledged her presence with a nod. I glanced over at David, who seemed lost in some article he was reading. I frowned. It bothered me that he could read so well. I knew some words, the basics, but David's vocabulary was enormous.

"Whatcha got there?" I asked him.

David looked up briefly, then answered as he kept reading.

"You remember how Denton said he was going to be a war correspondent?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, there's some war going on over 'The Panama Canal'. I'm reading Denton's story about it."

"The what canal?"

"I don't know yet, I'm not finished reading."

"Are ya educated?" Jackal asked abruptly.

"Excuse me?" David inquired.

"Do ya go to school?"

"I used to go a lot, but then I became a newsie. Well, actually, I still do, but I get Sundays off."

"Why?"

"Huh?"

"Why do ya get Sundays off?"

"So I can to church."

"What's so great about church?"

David stopped reading. Mush leaned in and listened, hopeful for a good debate.

"Church is a place of God, that's what so great. You can pray there with other people. It makes you feel really loved and safe."

"I've never felt like that…"

"Have you ever been to church?"

"No, but I don't think that's the reason."

"What is the reason?"

Jackal paused, and I felt her knee pressing against mine. It was quivering.

"Panic attacks…" she whispered.

"What are those?" Les said.

"Uh…Well, kid…"

"Les. My name is Les."

"'Kay then Les. Let's say youse walkin' around at night, and someone pops outta no where. How does it make ya feel?"

"Scared."

"And does ya heart start beatin real fast? Do ya get scared that the person is gonna hurt ya?"

"Sometimes."

"Imagine feelin' that frightened for no reason, for about half and hour or more."

"That sounds pretty bad."

"That's a panic attack. I get 'em a lot. So I never really feel too safe…" Jackal's voice trailed off and her knee stopped shaking.

"I got one of those a few months ago," Mush piped in.

"Yeah, I've gotten a fair share of 'em myself…" I said.

"I seriously doubt that."

"Hmmm?" Mush mumbled.

"Do ya tremble so much that the world doesn't seem to be still? Do ya lungs ache because ya breathin' so fast? Do ya get so dizzy that each time ya take a step ya gotta grab something for balance?" Jackal paused. Her eyes gleamed with the same frustration that they sparkled with earlier this morning. "Do ya ever feel so physically and mentally scared that ya think youse gonna die?"

"No…"

Jackal looked satisfied. I looked at her quizzically. Even though fear was in her voice, she still found a way to prove something to us. This girl liked being right, obviously. I smirked. Though I was ambivalent to admit it, I'd found the person I had been waiting for.


	3. Twisted Patellas and Pride

_The strongest bond is built by danger_

_Hazards make friends unite_

_All you need is a daring stranger_

_To let the risks ignite _

The next day, I actually woke up before Kloppman came upstairs. The sky was still dark, but I had the weirdest urge to get up and start selling. Of course, I couldn't buy my papers for about another 3 hours, so I decided to walk around New York for some air. Jackal was awake too, but was still in bed. The boys didn't mind having her around, but I think she was a bit anxious sleeping so close to them, so she slept on the mattress above mine.

"Come on…" I hissed, nudging her. "I'm goin' for a walk. Wanna come?"

Jackal smiled sleepily and pulled herself up, draping a sheet around her shoulders. Her teeth were chattering as she jumped down. Jackal yelped when her feet touched the freezing wooden floor.

"Cripes, can't they heat this place?" she said.

I shook my head. "It's too expensive, and we'd have to pay a lot more money to stay here if we got heating. Speakin' of money, ya gotta start sellin' today if ya wanna stay here. It costs about a nickel a night."

"Maybe I shoulda got that factory job…" she joked. "' Kay, I'll meet ya downstairs in about seven minutes."

"Seven? Why not five or ten?"

"Because everyone else picks that amount of time. I don't like bein' like everyone else. Plus, if ya pick five minutes, youse usually late. Ya pick ten and youse early. When ya pick seven, youse right on time."

"Nice logic."

Seven minutes later, Jackal met me at the statue outside the lodging house. She looked a lot better than she had yesterday morning. Her hair was still sorta messy, but a lot tamer. Her clothes were neat and free of wrinkles.

"I'm ready," she said.

Like yesterday, Jackal chose to lead the way. It didn't seem like she knew which direction she was going, but I could tell she was determined to get _somewhere_. A few minutes later, she stopped.

"Where's Brooklyn?" she asked.

"Why do ya wanna know?"

"Because I do, that's why."

"We ain't goin' there…"

There was no way I was going to Brooklyn. I was terrified of Spot Conlon. I mean, everyone was antsy around him, but I was always on the verge of a nervous breakdown. A panic attack, like Jackal had described. With Irish bravado flowing in his blood, Spot always had to prove himself to his boys. And that meant beating the shit out of me. I hated that racist bastard, but I had a feeling that Jackal would like him. She would like anyone who was belligerent and malicious.

"Yes we are, Boots."

"No, we ain't goin' there, Jackal. We ain't ever gonna go there."

"But there's someone I gotta see."

I bit my lip. Rapture, she already knew about Spot.

"Who?"

"Some guy name Hull."

"Wait a minute," I said as relief swept through my body. "Hull-Shore? Caleb 'Hull-Shore' Riley?"

Jackal's face lit up.

"Yeah! Do ya know him?"

"Yes. He doesn't live in Brooklyn though."

"But when he left Massachusetts he said he was goin' there."

"Ya lived in Massachusetts?"

"Yeah, I lived in Southie. Hull's my cousin."

"Huh. He works in a factory here in Manhattan...'Cept..."

"What, Boots?"

"He was put into the refuge a few months ago."

"The what?"

"It's like jail for kids."

"What! What was he arrested for?"

"Nothin'."

It was true; Hull was thrown in the refuge for no reason. Well, actually, Spot had lied to a policeman and had him incarcerated for assault and prostitution. Spot and Hull used to be good friends, but something happened between them and they became enemies. Naturally, I was pissed when Hull was taken away, not because he was my friend, but because of what Spot did.

"Ya can't get locked up for doin' nothin'" Jackal argued.

"He did."

Jackal frowned.

"Can we go to the refuge then?"

"What! Hell no!"

"I gotta see him."

"Aw, Jackal."

There was no point in protesting. Jackal had already begun sprinting down the street. I remembered why I hated mornings and dogs so much. They're both unpredictable.

"See, we can't get in, Jackal. The gate's locked."

We were standing outside the entrance of the refuge and Jackal was ticked off.

"Why would they lock it!"

I laughed. When Jackal was mad, she didn't use any common sense. Then again, no one can think clearly if they're angry.

"The refuge is like prison, do ya think they'd just leave the gates open for people to come and go?"

"Oh shut up, Boots," Jackal said with a roll of her eyes. "Is ya sarcasm helping to open the gate?"

"No."

"So shut it."

"Stop being such a hypocrite."

"Stop being such a toddler."

"Stop being such a girl."

"Stop being a boy."

Jackal snickered.

"Fine, this is the one argument I'll ever let ya win. Come on, let's go."

"It's _locked_."

"Ever heard of climbing?"

There was no stopping Jackal. She grabbed the black metal of the gate and pulled herself up. I watched her intriguingly as she maneuvered up the fence. She dropped down to the other side and cringed from the shock the fall sent up her ankles. She jerked her head forward, signaling me to follow. I exhaled deeply. We could get arrested for this…Not that I hadn't been in risky situations or anything, but after Jack's description of the refuge, I wasn't dying to go there.

"I'll be there in a sec."

The metal was freezing and blistered my palms as I scrambled up the fence. When I reached the top and swung my leg over the side, a sharp pain entered my groin. I'd forgotten about that. I swiftly plunged to the ground, landing on my feet and then buckling over.

"What happened?" Jackal asked. "Package get damaged during delivery?"

"Be quiet!" I snarled while I limped over to her.

"Relax, Boots. This is no big deal."

"Uh, yes it is."

"Don't exaggerate the situation. What's the worst that could happen?"

"Ya could bite someone again."

"I won't, trust me. I was under the influence."

"Huh? Wait, were ya drunk?"

"Not that kind of influence. I sorta have a temper…"

"No shit."

"And I couldn't help it. So cut me some slack."

"How can I be sure that won't happen again?"

"I told ya I was like a jackal; I'll only attack if a friend of mine is threatened or something."

"We're friends?"

"We ain't enemies."

"So what are you in for?"

I sat in the corner of the room, grumbling to myself. I couldn't believe Jackal had gotten us caught.

"We broke in."

"Why would you want to break _into_ the refuge?"

"My cousin is in here and I wanted to see 'im."

"Oh…And your friend?"

"What about 'im?"

"Was he with you?"

"Yeah."

"So what happened?"

I stood up and grinded my heel on the floor, feeling tense. I looked around the room and saw a sea of children, eager to hear Jackal's story.

"Well, we got over the gate, right? And then outta no where comes this cop. So he starts threatenin' us and Boots runs back towards the gate. But I stayed there and started persuadin' the cop to let me in and see my cousin. 'Cept the guy keeps yellin' at won't shut up. So then I got mad and told 'im to shut up and kicked him in the crotch."

The room erupted with laughter and I rolled my eyes. Jackal was amplifying the story.

"Then the guy takes out his riot stick and starts screamin, so then Boots comes back and tries to get me to leave, but I really wanted to find my cousin. So I grab Boots and drag him past the cop, and by then five of 'em come outta no where on big black horses."

"Really?"

"No, _not_ really," I interjected. Jackal glared at me as I walked to the center of the room. "The truth is, as soon as we got over the gate, the cop came, and Jackal started running to get away. She tripped and fell, and twisted her knee, so we have to stay here 'till it gets better."

The kids looked disappointed and went back to playing marbles, uninterested with the reality of the story. Jackal limped over towards me and slouched against the wall.

"Why couldn't ya just let me say what I wanted?" she asked.

"Because ya should only lie when ya life depends on it, Jackal. Don't make up things just to make ya life seem more exciting."

"I'm so _sick_ of everyone saying that!"

Jackal slammed her fist against the granite colored wall, swearing as her knuckles collided with the stone. I watched in horror as she punched the wall several more times until her hand bled.

"Jackal! What the hell?"

"I can't _stand _it, Boots!"

"Can't stand what?"

By then her shouting had attracted more children, but I swatted them away.

"Nothing ever happens to me. I don't have a tragic past like some of the others."

"Why would ya want that?"

"All the other girls in the city have excuses to be distraught. They've all been beaten or raped."

"Yeah, that's _bad_. Ya shouldn't wish for stuff like that."

"I have no reason to be so _fucked up_. Nothing traumatic has ever happened to me."

"I don't get it."

"The panic attacks, Boots! The _fucking panic attacks_ are seriously screwin' me up! I have no reason or explanation for why I get them. That's why I'm always lookin' for trouble; I need an excuse to be scared. "

I gaped at Jackal. The sudden confession puzzled me, she didn't seem like the time who'd reveal something like that to a stranger. Plus, this had nothing to do with our conversation. Jackal was definitely spontaneous and volatile.

"How's ya knee?" I said in an attempt to change the subject. Jackal didn't answer. She sighed heavily, over and over again, like she was hyperventilating. A group of felon kids were staring at her like she was insane.

"My knee is fine. It's my reputation that's damaged."


End file.
